Including ABC Wednesday, Carry On Tuesday and Heads or Tails.
Have you had a go yet?
PAPPA RAZZI
I hate bullying of any kind. Yes, I know the bully usually has ‘issues’ –
he has to express his self-esteem ‘cos he’s a wreck inside. But I just
wish he’d go and cause other wrecks elsewhere, where no one else
gets hurt. Yet, in a perverse way, the bully often fulfils a function.
Time after time I hear of people making it in the world ‘cos they had
to rise above the fears caused by being bullied. Adversity, it seems,
can bring out the best in the human. What a crazy, cruel world
we live in.
Eye On the World
Writers’ Tips
The ‘Y’ Files
BRIT NEWS: Surveillance watchdog
attacks ministers for wanting more powers
to spy on us. Paranoid govt is dangerous, don’t
you know.
BRIT NEWS: Get married Church of England style, now, and get kids
baptised at same time. So the idea of no kids before marriage dumped.
BRIT NEWS: Thinktank predicts deep cuts in public
services. Isn’t this stating the obvious? We
could never afford such services
for long.
LOVE ROSE
Fiction: ‘Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.’ The John Lennon
quote had been apt to the life before us, good reader; even though
it can leave a bitter taste as our subject knelt here before the rose.
It had seemed a match made in heaven. Oh, the clichés! But it
turned out to be one long series of clichés – the whirlwind romance,
the marriage – but beneath it all, the knowing that he loved someone
else, allowing his love to spread like a virulent weed. She suspected
this early in their short time together. And the suspicion grew,
paranoia blossoming into a bouquet of deceit and lies. And then the
fear. Was she SAFE!? Well, it turned out she wasn’t. There were
too many flowers in his garden and weeding had become a necessity
… So our subject knelt here before the rose, the grave immaculate,
the memory of the bitter taste of poison she had delivered before
his weeding commenced. And as she pruned away with gusto, she
remembered his Rose.
IN FIVE YEARS TIME
Where will I be in five years time?
Writing poetry, feeling the rhyme;
No doubt still suffering from cfs,
Can’t seem to be rid of this little pest;
Building the years of my marriage long,
Happy to sing the same loving song;
But hopefully a publisher discovers me,
‘Cos writing seems my destiny
© Anthony North, July 2009
